


Compulsive Obsession (2011)

by JennyB



Series: Lent 2011 [46]
Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Blood, Flashbacks, Gen, Lent Challenge 2011, Love/Hate, Obsession, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennyB/pseuds/JennyB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some obsessions are born from the strangest circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compulsive Obsession (2011)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lent Challenge 2011.

"Damn it…" The barely spoken word cut through the silence as the doctor stood in one of his own examination rooms in the middle of the night, his normally immaculate white clothing stained a deep crimson. He was rifling one-handed through a drawer while trying to ignore the garish glare of the fluorescent lighting and the faint dripping sound that seemed suddenly far too loud for his ears. Slightly mismatched silver eyes scanned the contents, the glare a little sharper than normal as Muraki attempted to mask his pain. The majority was physical - just one look at him would confirm the severity of his injuries. He suspected that some was probably emotional, too - or perhaps it was just the humbling sting of a bruised ego - though he would never admit that to another soul, living or otherwise.

Finally finding the length of rubber tubing he'd been looking for, he grabbed it, leaving a long crimson smear on the otherwise pristine stainless steel. He shrugged out of his trench coat and jacket as best he could – not that either was really salvageable by this point – and then he rolled up his shirtsleeve to the elbow to apply the tourniquet. Satisfied, he glanced around briefly, and spotted the syringe of morphine sitting on the desk, just where he'd left it. With slightly trembling fingers, he picked it up, put the cap between his teeth, and pulled, freeing the needle from its plastic sheath. Swallowing thickly, he inserted it into his vein and depressed the plunger before sinking down heavily onto the office chair as the painkiller began to course through his system. Roughly, he jerked the needle from his arm and released the band, letting both fall to the floor with a quiet clatter. It wasn't long before his eyes fell half-closed and he felt the pain start to abate. All of it.

In hindsight, he should have known better than to cross Tatsumi. Of all the shinigami, he knew the least about the stoic secretary, and that had been dangerous. Muraki had made too many assumptions - a lot of them false - and he'd paid for his arrogance by underestimating his opponent. Of course he'd known that Tatsumi was a kagetsukai and that despite spending most of his time on administrative pursuits, his skills were formidable. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on Tatsumi's relatively short temper or the calculated, exacting precision behind everything the secretary did.

* * *

Muraki smirked to himself as he stood, his mismatched eyes scanning the glyph he'd painted with his own blood on the cracked tile floor. He'd been quiet for far too long after the events in Kyoto, and he'd planned to summon a spirit that would feed on other spirits; a welcome gift of sorts for Tsuzuki.

"I guess I really shouldn't be surprised to see you alive and well, should I?"

Muraki arched a brow when he saw Tatsumi. "EnMa-sama's secretary? I'm offended."

A cool smile pulled up the corners of Tatsumi's mouth. "My apologies. Though I promise to be a worthy adversary."

Muraki chuckled, and he snapped a finger, watching as three lesser demons appeared around him. "You'll forgive me if I don't take you at your word." He expected the fiends to make short work of the brunet. He was surprised when Tatsumi's shadows dispatched them as easily as they had his vultures in Kyoto.

"And you'll forgive _me_ if I get straight to the point."

Muraki was admittedly intrigued by the shinigami that stood before him. Tatsumi had a coldness to him; aloof almost to the point of being standoffish. Muraki supposed that one who commanded the shadows would have to possess such traits, and the secretary's no-nonsense attitude would ensure that their obedience was both immediate and absolute. "Now really Tatsumi-san, was that necessary?" he asked, a sinister smile curving his lips upward as he stepped into his circle to complete his summons. He could see his ooryuu dragon silently slithering toward Tatsumi - his insurance policy - and as the white dragon attacked, he began the final part of his spell.

Seconds later, he could taste blood, and a searing coldness had settled in his limbs. His body felt heavy, and he could feel pain radiating through his whole form. "What -" Glancing down, he could see the bright crimson quickly staining his clothing, and shifting his gaze to Tatsumi, he was surprised to see him standing there, a sword formed of shadows in his hand, and his beloved dragon slain by the darkness that was currently licking almost affectionately at the brunet's shoes.

"I cannot allow you to complete your spell," Tatsumi said evenly, his eyes sparking with a silent fury. "Withdraw, Muraki. Withdraw, or die. And believe me, if you choose the latter, I look forward to delivering your Summons myself."

Muraki could feel the depth of the wound, his fingertips brushing against his own viscera, and he laughed. "Really, you have no sense of humour, Tatsumi-san. But I'll take your offer. This time."

* * *

Muraki snorted in amusement as a crooked smirk spread across his face, and the tip of his tongue ran almost predatorily along his upper teeth. He wouldn't make that mistake again; this most recent encounter had given him ample information, and what he still lacked he would find. He thought about the frigid cobalt eyes, and a longing grew inside of him. Tatsumi was not one he could control through fear, like Hisoka, or intimidation, like Tsuzuki. He both hated and respected Tatsumi's strength of character, and in that moment, he decided he desperately wanted him. If only to completely and totally break him.

His expression grew sharper, his eyes clearing slightly as his _unique_ metabolism took over. Chuckling darkly he began to suture his wounds, his mind already plotting. Tatsumi should never have let him live, and for the courtesy, Muraki vowed he would destroy him.

With Saki gone, it would give him something to look forward to.


End file.
